


Heist of the Wayward Octopus

by AppleSoda



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Adventure, Friendship, Gen, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-01 07:51:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18796108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: Peter receives an invitation to a gala at the Wakandan consulate, and a request from its Princess to face down a thief that neither know what to make of.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started the Spider-man video game recently and spent five minutes swinging outside the embassy of Wakanda going "T'Challa please be my friend"

The card stood out immediately from the usual stack of bills, college brochures and pizza coupons that got handed off to Aunt May Parker each day by the doorman. The expensive, thick paper was jet-black, and sealed with a shiny purple sticker in the shape of a heart-shaped leaf. The return address, complete with zip code for downtown Manhattan, read “THE ROYAL CONSULATE OF WAKANDA” with “KING T’CHAKA MEMORIAL FOUNDATION GALA DINNER” printed in smaller silver-embossed text.

 

“Looks like a party invite for you, Pete. You going to open it, or just develop X-ray vision in addition to Spidey senses?” Aunt May mused as she stirred the pot of give-alarm chili at the stove, glancing at her phone every now and then to check the recipe.

 

The seal-sticker caught the light as Peter tossed it up in the air and caught it again, more to have something to do than anything else.

 

“I have a feeling it’s for….the other guy, and not Peter Parker.” It was laughable, to feel jealous of something that was every bit a part of him as the person worrying about a chemistry project or gotten frazzled over a note MJ passed him in study hall. But that was all part of some jumbled-together process, and Peter was certain he’d get through it eventually.

 

“Well,” his aunt shrugged. “They’re both my guys, and I’m sure there’s a reason the Wakandans are looking for either one of them. But for now, try this, and let me know if it needs more salt.” She held out a wooden spoonful of chili, nonplussed at the choice he now had to make.

 

Wakandans, by all accounts, were a wealthy nation and a blur of the Black Panther, their champion, that once clawed through a car as Peter fought his way through an airport. What could someone like that want that needed to be said at a black-tie gala two weeks from now?

 

“Needs more?” asked Aunt May.

 

“Just a smidge,” agreed Peter. He grabbed his laptop, plopped onto the couch, and began to run a search for last-minute places to rent a three-piece suit.

 

The consulate itself was easy enough to find, because at night, the Wakandans lit it up a flourescent purple. As Peter walked over from the nearest subway station, he saw a long line of limousines and cars with luxury logoes that he hadn’t even heard of. For what seemed to be the millionth time that evening already, he adjusted his tie.

 

The hall was still having a pre-dinner cocktail hour, and elegantly dressed people milled about. Flanking the doors and scattered close to the walls of the room were stern guardswomen in red that wielded spears. Hanging across the banner of a large stage and overlooking rows of banquet tables was a large portrait of an older man— the late King of the small nation. Peter glanced at it, and thought of the day that had taken King T’Chaka’s life— when everything changed in terms of what he had to fight for, too.

 

“I sent your invitation, if you were wondering,” said a Wakandan-accented voice from one of the small standing tables. Approaching him was a girl about his age, who wore her braids in an elaborate crown and an gown with 3D-printed spiky details that fanned over her shoulders like the wings of a translucent beetle. But most notably, the girl had an eager expression at the sight of him, which could only match Ned’s when he was in the middle of explaining the ship mechanics of Han Solo making the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs. 

 

“Peter Parker,” She politely held out her hand. “Princess Shuri of Wakanda. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 

= = =

 

“It’s not about getting used to New York and….um…post-UN stuff, is it?”

 

“No,” she shrugged, looking off at the photoof her father with a wistful expression.“You are not my more-than-adequately paid therapist. We have business to discuss pertaining to other talents you possess.” In good spirits once more, Shuri wiggled her fingers and angled her hand, miming a crawling motion upwards.

 

Peter nodded, and continued to listen. He had snagged half a dozen skewers of fancy cheese cubes from the catering waiter to burn through, which made it easier to wait for Shuri to get to why he’d been invited to an expensive fundraising gala. Because it sure wasn’t about the (nonexistent) Parker family fortune.

 

“The Wakandan consulate possesses a cache of vibranium underneath this building,” she explained. “We keep a small supply so that the Dora Milaje,” Shuri gestured to the guards,“may use it for weapons upkeep and for emergency energy.”

 

She then snapped a square off the wall of the consulate, and swiped at it. Instantly, it turned into some kind of tablet computer that displayed a small holographic map of the building. A red dot glowed in the furthest reaches of the basement.

 

“Someone,” she said, looking him in the eyes, “is attempting to take it tonight. And I need someone to sneak down to the vault with me as back-up.”

 

“There’s no spies or someone you could call on?” Peter scratched his head.

 

“There’s a very good spy, I know” was the reply. “But she and my brother are….what is the expression…Netflix-and-chilling. So that’s a one-way-ticket to getting a lecture I don’t need.” Shuri might have been Wakandan royalty, but way she grimaced was all too familiar to any American teenager.

 

“Nobody says ‘Netflix and chill’ anymore,” Peter pointed out.

 

“Well, that’s what I get for relying on tumblr for jokes,” scoffed the Princess. “Perhaps I should look into enrolling in school part-time to get better memes.” she stroked her chin thoughtfully at the idea.

 

“Sneaking mission question.” He had run out of cheese cubes, but the idea of protecting a vibranium cache seemed like something important. After all, if Captain America could do the damage he did with a hunk of the stuff, it looked like bad news in the wrong hands. “Why me, specifically?”

 

“It’s New York.” Shuri patted him on the arm cheerily. “As your neighbors, we are simply requesting assistance from the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.” The answer, thought Peter, didn’t seem to give away a lot. But nothing she said had been a lie.

 

“Thats…well, you got me there.” Peter nodded. “But we’re going to have to make a stop and come back, if that’s okay.”

 

“Not a problem,” Shuri agreed, gesturing to a guard by the wall. “Just text me the coordinates of where to go and I’ll start the car.”

 

= = =

 

“Thought you might need this,” Aunt May handed over the duffel bag. “Stay safe, okay?” She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

 

“You know I will,” Peter shouldered the suit, glad to be out of a tie, at last.

 

In the meantime, Shuri had bought a small paper bag of honey roasted peanuts, and tossed them into the cup holder once Peter got back into the car. “Peter, I’ve found the most interesting snack. Feel free to take a few on the drive back.”

 

“She said she only had hundreds,” Peter heard the vendor say as they started to drive away. “I swear, this city. You never know what you’re going to get on any given day….”

 

= = =

 

The elevator glowed bright blue like the inside of a science fiction spaceship as Shuri punched in a passcode, then slid in a key for good measure.

 

“That’s…two-factor authentication, isn’t it?”

 

“Mm, something like that,” she replied, after thinking about it. For sure, Peter had known it wasn’t, and she didn’t want to explain it to him. But computer lab was something that Peter could grow on. As they swooped down through floors that seemed to tunnel past any zoning code that the State of New York could allow, Peter’s gaze remained on the glowing red dot at the base of the tablet map.

 

“When do you think they’re going to try to make a run at the cache?” He asked.

 

“When the dinner begins,” Shuri replied. “That’s when the guards will be most occupied. I’ve come equipped with…defensive protocols, and can stand at the front. But what you’ll need to do is take the vents…here.” She swiped across the tablet, and a thin line of light traced from one side of the room to another, stopping above the dot. “At any sign of trouble, take the cache and keep it safe.”

 

They turned into a room that was empty, and the Princess took her position near the front, knocking her bracelets together. Instantaneously, twin blasters popped out of the elaborate silver design, and she adjusted a setting in the clasp to hold them in place. With a nod, she motioned to the vent, and Peter got to work.

 

Though the Wakandans had upgraded their building to high-tech standards beyond anything else in New York, the vents of the consulate remained dusty and unused. He coughed slightly getting in, thinking about ways to improve the suit to try to be sneeze-proof. Honestly, thought Peter, that should’ve come with the territory, given how much of his time he kept sneaking around.

 

At last, he arrived at an area with a gap. Below was a small silver suitcase. Leaning on his arms, he waited and watched. For the next fifteen minutes, Peter thought of contingency plans, mixed in with doubt about whether he could’ve taken a few more cheese cubes for the road. Stakeouts were annoying that way, in that you never knew when they would end.

 

In a sudden flash of blue light, something appeared below. He couldn’t make out what it was exactly, but thinking fast had been something easier to do. And it was what Shuri had asked for. In one motion, the vent flung open, and the suitcase of vibranium was webbed up into his hands for safekeeping. He had done it to guns, thugs’ shock batons, and a number of access keys needed to shut down bombs and the like already. This was no different. 

 

“Well, this is different,” the voice below spoke to him. “I didn’t expect a reunion this soon, Mr. Parker.”

 

Peter clutched the suitcase, and looked down into the glowing goggled eyes of a woman that resembled an enormous octopus, down to the wild nest of hair bound into a beehive bun and several robotic tentacles the size of cables that moved with the grace of a Stark-made high-tech battlesuit. Adjusting her goggles, which spun menacingly, she looked upon him with a predatory smile.

 

“Lucky me,” grinned the woman. “Landing in another place ridden with spiders.” She looked over at Shuri, who had locked on her blasters “Don’t know what your deal is, kid, but hey,” Translucent tentacles piped with electronics reached up, whirring to life and likely promising to dish out some serious damage, even if it was one-on-two.

 

“I’ve got more than one arm to take what I need from this place.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“We have two and a half minutes until the system alerts the Dora stationed upstairs.” Shuri’s voice was calm, as if she had handled situations like these, but also with a bit of uncertainty relative to the specific mess she and Peter had found themselves in. While there wasn’t anything to worry about in terms of life-or-death situations, they would ultimately make the difference on whether the vibranium stayed within the consulate or not. And for that matter, if the menacing-looking woman would bring the place down to get it.

 

“Got it. Three minutes to hold her off. Anything I need to look out for in this room?” Peter asked. “Death robots? Built-in Lasers?” For standard stake-outs near jewelery stores, he had already developed something of a mental checklist of traps to look out for, whichranged from ‘standard’ to ‘weird relic being guarded by several armored cars disguised as food trucks outside.’ He could tell the latter apart from the real thing, because nobody sold hot dogs that way in New York.

 

“None that will be used against you,” Shuri replied coolly. “ Just us and the _amateur_ over there.” Already, she powered up the blasters in her arms, and they flared to life with the whirr of the miniature power cores she had installed. The panes in her evening dress had shifted and twisted, changing into an outfit resembling athletic clothing. She jumped up, shooting twin blasts at one of the woman’s arms that was speeding towards the suitcase and scaling every surface of the room.

 

The suit that their thief wore was quite nimble despite its size, clawing out fixtures and panels as if the limbs had a mind of their own. One of the arms ripped out a pane of steel plate, and flung it out like a deadly discus. It missed Peter’s head, wedging itself in the wall with a resounding clank, taking out some of the electrical wiring. Somewhere in the distance, they heard the crack of a generator in the building taking damage.

 

“You want to say that again?!” Snapped the woman.

 

“I think she’s mad you called her an amateur,” Peter called over.

 

“Okay, but the technology—” Shuri moved out of the way of another panel, gesturing animatedly. “I cannot consider anything but primitive. But I’m not a Dora, so fighting….”

 

She grimaced, blasting aside a steel plate just before it was about to deliver a painful concussion. “That’s what I usually leave up to Okoye or my brother!” Ducking behind a pillar, Shuri started to fiddle with the chunky beaded bracelet at her wrist, which lit up at the touch.

 

“Buy me some time!” She called over. “I need to try something.”

 

That, Peter could do because, if Ned was right about anything that had stayed the same, it was that Peter’s true talent in being Spider-Man was his superhuman ability to annoy other people. Heck, it was true enough outside of costume that he and Ned sat alone at lunch for so long.

 

“Look at you, spending a perfectly good Saturday night trying to steal from an embassy.” He rebounded off the wall and knocked one of the legs aside, webbing it to the floor. “Honestly, it gives people marathoning movies with ice cream something to look up to.”

 

“On the contrary, Mr. Parker, I’m having my best evening in months.”

 

That was twice now that she had called him that. Since the first time she had done it, Peter had racked his brain, trying to figure out who that could have known him would have let the word slip out.

 

Unfortunately, the moment’s distraction had bought the Octopus some time, and he saw the clawed robotic tentacle rip away from the floor, slamming him to the wall in one powerful blow.

 

From the sounds of quiet beeps from where Shuri hid, she was still in the middle of trying whatever mystery maneuver that was in her plans. Which meant that he needed to up the annoying factor.

 

Reeling from what he was sure would be some kind of concussion if not for the gel padding in his mask, Peter launched himself off the display case one last time, and towards the thief for a body blow. This time, he landed one punch, but felt himself get hit twice in return. When he hit the wall again, he plummeted, and then the lights went out.

 

= =

 

“Hey,” In the darkness,the sound felt like if someone had reached out and touched a hand on his shoulder. His eyes remained squeezed shut, just like it was one of the rare Saturdays where Aunt May needed him to get up early for something.

 

“Are you the Robot Octopus-fighting fairy?” He asked woozily.

 

“Uh, no.” The voice was young, and could’ve been someone he could overhear on the train into Brooklyn with Ned on the weekends. Definitely a New Yorker. “Good guess, but no.”

 

“Voice-1, Parker-0.”

 

“Well, that’s— wait, Parker? As in Peter Parker? You _cannot_ be serious.”

 

“Serious as this concussion, weirdly accurate shapeless friend. But I gotta go. This Octopus lady is going to mess up these nice people’s embassy.”

 

“Got it,” replied the voice, and Peter felt like he’d been talking to a friend, even though he was certain that they’d never met. “ Looks like you might need a little spark to keep going,” said the voice lightly. Even though Peter couldn’t see the speaker, he was all but certain that the person on the other end was grinning.

 

“Check this out.”

 

It was as if the lights had come back on, and as Peter awoke, he felt awash in a cool, relieving energy that jolted through him. For a moment, he felt a spark light up the nerve endings of his mind, and the knowledge of just what to do came to mind.

 

He grinned, and leapt upwards, once more into the fray.

 

The bespectacled woman was grinning as she loomed over Shuri, who was still working one-handed and blasting aside robotic tentacles with the other. But sweat was beading on the princess’ brow. Peter took aim, and this time, electricity jolted from a web he shot out sticking to the jetpack-like device on the Octopus’ back.

 

“This is what I get for separating the networks to try to make it hack-proof. Too slow,” she muttered. She slammed a button on her bracelet, and, as if on cue, the remaining steel panels of the room detached, floating over and wrapping up the remaining limbs as if they were cables to organize. As they stuck to the walls, she was trapped.

 

The doors of the elevator burst open, kicked apart by four angry-looking royal guards that Peter had seen working the room of the party. At the front of them was one particularly ticked-off-looking woman, who marched up to Shuri, glanced over and then cracked a wry grin.

 

“Well,” she said. “Here I had thought you were fiddling with your phone all through combat training.”

 

“I didn’t slack off the _entire_ time, Okoye.” Shuri held up a finger in defiance. “Just enough to pass marks with mother.”

 

“Spider-Man.” The woman then passed him, took the briefcase, and gave him a nod that seemed to suggest his conduct was acceptable. Which was great, considering that Peter didn’t seem to be under arrest under Wakandan Law or something. He’d always liked it whenthere weren’t weird international incidents he’d caused that needed to be explained to his Aunt.

 

“All in an evening’s work, ma’m.” Peter handed off the suitcase to the stern-looking warrior, glad to not be in a situation where he’d have to cross her. “Um…If it’s not too much to ask, could I head back upstairs to get more of those little cheese cubes?”

 

“After your help, Peter, I think you’ve more than earned cheese cubes,” Shuri grinned.

= =

 

In another, another dimension, the tea was on. As Alchemax’s head scientist prepared her favorite mug, she frowned. The kink in Liv’s shoulder from being slammed into the side of an police van was probably going to bruise, even with healing gel, courtesy of her medical division, had already been generously applied. Fortunately for her, her teleporter chose an opportune time to take her home.

 

Liv couldn’t fault the kids for protecting the stash of vibranium at the consulate in the heart of New York. Even though she had never worked with anything but small samples of the stuff, it had the potential to change everything. And it would’ve made a good business, had she pulled the gig off.

 

But Dr. Olivia Octavius, who was used to failures in the course of her pursuit of science,was never one to cut her losses completely. Her main objective of transporting away had been a resounding success. All because of the three small snippets of hair that lay at the pod in the center of her lab.

 

“Perfect,” Liv said watching the genetic materials of another Peter Parker, suspended in a test tube, being slowly scanned into the database she was steadily building.

 

“Maybe they should’ve been watching the hands a little more. But I don’t blame em. Rookies always learn, sooner or later…” She laughed, and proceeded with the next important discovery that had yet to be made.


End file.
